Dixie Land
by xGirlxWithxThexRedxBalloonx
Summary: The year is 1865: America, Britain, and Prussia go hunting for a man named Winifred Henry who threatens to expose their existence to the public if not stopped. Meanwhile, the state of Virginia is struggling with failing health and goes missing. Canada, who is suppose to be watching over her in America's absence goes after her. Warning: Nyotalia, human names, OC.
1. Chapter 1

Morning was finally dawning on Alfred. His eyes gleamed with a mixture of the intoxication of the whiskey he drank throughout the night and a wild sadness that the whiskey had extracted from him. He rocked back and forth rhythmically on a rocking chair that had to be centuries old and looked ahead at the open fields of the Virginia countryside. Sitting next to him with a knitted shawl draped over her shoulders with the state Virginia. She had stayed with him all night. Alfred talked, she listened. At some point in the night she had fallen asleep with her hands positioned perfectly in her lap. The morning light shined on the diamond ring poised proudly on her engagement finger. Alfred looked over at the shimmering diamond and sighed. He wondered why she'd wear an engagement ring when she wasn't engaged. A thought occurred to him that perhaps she was secretly seeing someone but he pushed such a thought away, blaming the whiskey for such a terrible thought. Virginia wouldn't keep a secret like that from him. They were far too close to keep secrets from each other. As the sun rose higher in the sky his breathing had slowed. He sat in awe of the sunrise. Since the end of the Civil War he had begun to take comfort in the trivial occurrences. He remembered laying on the battlefield, cursing his former brothers for betraying him. Such experiences haunted his dreams. He quickly fell into the comfort of alcohol but he also fell into the comforts of Virginia. She didn't falter in playing the mother role for him. Ready to wipe his drool away on her petticoats and nurse him when a hangover hit him. A year since the end of the Civil War. Now that America the country was starting to reconstruct itself the man could now begin.

The sun shined on Virginia's face, waking her from her peaceful slumber. She lifted her hand to block the light and yawned. Her skin had paled since the start of the war. She had lost an unhealthy amount of weight, as well. With the crippling of the Confederacy and the constant unrest of the South many of the Southern states had started to have failing health. Virginia being among them. She pulled her shawl off her shoulders. When she stood up her chair made an eerie creak. She approached Alfred and kissed him on the forehead before draping her shawl over his shoulders.

"Don't be long. We have to be in Richmond soon" she reminded him. She walked inside her house while breathing warm breath into her hands. Alfred stayed outside a little longer. He watched the world around him wake up. He listened to the howl of the rooster and the whistle of the wind. An odd combination but it somehow sounded peaceful to him. The quiet time was interrupted by Virginia walking outside holding a fresh plate of bacon and eggs and a cup of coffee. Alfred looked hungrily at her.

"Bacon?" he asked, mouth watering at the scent of her cooking.

"Bacon", she confirmed, "Come inside" she lead him into the dining room where they sat together in silence, eating their breakfast. Alfred wolfed down his meal like it would be his last. As Virginia filled his plate with more food she teased him by calling him a glutton. Alfred didn't understand what she meant by that but didn't question her. He was too busy eating her food. When he had finished eating she instructed him to get dressed.

"But I'm tired. We can make them wait until later tonight. Let me get some shut eye" he begged. Virginia put her hands on her hips and looked down at him. He slouched in his chair with a pout.

"I told you last night to sleep. Did I not?" she chided.

"Yes, ma'am" he pouted.

"I also told you not to drink"

"Yes, ma'am"

"Now you listen here. You said that you would meet our guests in Richmond on this day at ten o'clock. You ain't backing out of your promise. Real men don't back out of their promises. Now get upstairs, wash yourself and get dressed" Alfred continued to pout in his seat, "Now, Alfred F. Jones! Now!" she ordered. Alfred flinched in his seat then darted up the stairs to follow her orders. He gathered his suit for the day while the maid, a former slave by the name of Abigail, filled his tub with warm water. She avoided eye contact with the man, still traumatized by her experiences with her former master. Alfred threw his suit on to his bed. He ran his hand through his light brown hair and sighed.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Sir?" Abigail inquired. Alfred turned to her to realize that she was standing above a brass tub filled with water. She hand her hands folded behind her back and head held low.

"That will be all. Thank you, Abigail" he dismissed her. Abigail gave him a deep curtsey then scurried out of his room. Alfred shut the door quietly. He undressed himself then sat himself in the tub. He fought hard to resist the urge to fall asleep, moving his hand over the water and watching the ripples. He sat in the tub until the water had gone cold. An hour or so he assumed, spent with his wandering thoughts. When the water had begun to chill him he decided that it was time to get dressed. Lazily, he dressed himself. Missing a button here, tying his tie too loosely, even forgetting to tie his boots. When he stumbled downstairs he saw Virginia sitting in the living room with Abigail. As usual, Virginia had dressed herself in a plain dress. A light blue color with white decorating the hems of the dress. It had no pattern to it but Virginia managed to seem regal wearing it. When she noticed Alfred watching her she narrowed her eyes. Just as she did earlier before scolding him. She waved her hand to come to her. He followed her instruction with his head held low in shame. She stood from her seat and unbuttoned his vest and shirt. Abigail looked away out of modesty. With her nimble fingers she buttoned his shirt and vest properly then tied his tie like a gentleman should have it.

"Tie your boots. Or do you need me to do that for you?" she ordered.

"No, ma'am" Alfred bent down and tied his shoes the best he could in his current state. Virginia sat down next to Abigail again and resumed their conversation from before.

"As I was saying, once we get to Richmond I will be needing you to finish your daily chores. After that, pack your possessions. By three o'clock I will have a carriage waiting for you outside the house. It will take you to the hotel i will be staying at in Richmond" Virginia went on to explain.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but why are you taking me with you?" Abigail questioned.

"You are my most trusted servant. I wouldn't dare go on any trip without you, my dear" Alfred thought that he could leave the room without notice. His thoughts were proven wrong when he heard Virginia call his name out, "Stop" Alfred paused, "Turn" Alfred turned to her, "Sit" she pointed at the couch besides her. Alfred sat down, ready for a scolding. She stood up again and glared down at him with her hands on her hips. Alfred lowered his head like a child would once he's been caught doing something naughty.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked.

"No, not yet. I just want to remind you that, though the President has sent you on a dangerous task, don't forget to eat regularly and get rest. Always keep your gun loaded and ready to fire. Stay away from whores. I know they're just trying to make a living but they will give you some disease. It happened to Texas, lest you have forgotten" Alfred chuckled at the memory of Texas crying about his privates burning and sporting warts and cursing the prostitute that caused it, "Stop laughing. I'm not done. You may be running into savage lands but that doesn't mean everyone there is a savage. What are my rules?"

"Treat every man, woman and child with respect, courtesy, and kindness. Never draw first but always draw first blood. A woman is a woman no matter the color of her skin and will always come first" he recited.

"That's my boy. Should you run low on funds, I'll be in the Nebraska territory, staying with Matthew. If you send me a telegram I'll send you the money"

"You make it sound as if I'm helpless. I'll be with England and Prussia, hunting down one man. Besides, if they don't help me, I got Samuel Colt on my side" Alfred reminded her. Virginia sighed and sat next to him. She put an arm around him and rested her head on his shoulders.

"No matter how big you get or how many wars you survive, you will always be my son. I will always worry over you. I may not have bore you but I raised you from your infant days to now. I've watched you grow into the man you are today and I am not inclined to see my son run off into hell again, only to return more damaged than when he left" she confessed.

"You won't have to. This won't be like the Civil War. We're going on a man hunt. Not a full on war against the Confederacy"

"Doesn't mean I'm going to be any more okay with you running off again to be the hero. You'll also have Britain with you. It only makes my heart sink lower"

"Iggy can take care of himself. Your words barely a century ago when we were fighting our revolution"

"I never used that childish nickname you gave him. And times have changed since then. They've changed for the better" she trailed off, gazing lovingly at the diamond ring she wore on her engagement finger.

"What do you mean they've changed for the better?" Alfred questioned, noticing how she became lost in the diamond. Their conversation was cut short by the sound of a carriage pulling in front of the house and the loud click-clacking of horse hoofs. Virginia was broken from her daydream with an almost sadden expression. She stood from her seat and trotted to the foot of the steps. She snapped her fingers, indicating for Abigail and Alfred to follow her.

"Abigail get our coats. Quickly"

"Yes, ma'am" Abigail scurried to the coat closet. She retrieved a lavender colored square shawl and draped it over Virginia's shoulders. While Abigail retrieved Alfred's coat Virginia had buttoned her shawl together and was already making her way to the carriage. Abigail rushed herself to button his coat but was unable to finish. Alfred had darted out the door, trying to catch up to Virginia. The carriage driver, an elderly man with salt and peppered hair, was holding the door open with his hand opened to Virginia. She took his hand, gracefully placing herself in the carriage. Alfred bounced into his seat, jostling the carriage. Much to both Virginia's and the carriage driver's annoyance. Standing on the porch was Abigail. She looked worried at them as they drove away. As they were about to ride past the white picket fence surrounding her property Virginia banged her hand on the door.

"Stop!" she yelled to the carriage driver. He came to a sudden stop. Virginia stuck her head out the window and yelled back at Abigail, "Abigail! I've left an official letter for you! Signed by the president! Should you run into any trouble on your way to Richmond show the letter so they leave you alone! It's on my vanity!"

"Thank you, ma'am! You have a safe trip now!" Abigail hollered back with a wave of her hand. Virginia waved back at her. She looked back at the carriage driver, "Go on now" Virginia sank back in her seat with her hands folded neatly in her lap.

Along the way Alfred had managed a small nap. Virginia had become accustomed to Alfred's heavy snoring. Most nights it was comforting to know he was there but with the combination of his snoring and the racket of the carriage she found her trip to be quite bothersome. She leaned her head against the window. She gazed out at the green pastures of her home. It was a bittersweet watching her home fade into the background. She twisted the ring on her finger nervously. She and her fiancé had been waiting for the best time to announce their engagement but as she watched her son she couldn't help but to wonder if any time would be the best time. It seemed so unlikely. Alfred was never inclined to letting men chase after her. More often than not, Alfred would put his Colt .45 to the head of her suitor then ask how much she truly meant to them. She pretended to be ignorant of his actions but she anything but ignorant. In fact, she thought it to be a time saver. He was able to dispose of the unworthy ones early on. However, this man she had engaged herself to was much different than the ones that had chased her before. Much, much different.

"Ms. Jones, Mr. Jones. We're here" the carriage driver announced. Virginia shook Alfred's knee, making him wake up with a snort.

"Alfred. It's time" she said with a caring smile. Alfred nodded his head. As the carriage driver helped Virginia out of the carriage Alfred rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, preparing himself to face the oncoming awkward meeting that would be exchanged. Virginia closed her eyes, trying to gain control of her emotions. Her capital had fallen at the hands of the Union not long ago. What was once a city filled with life, stories and excitement was now a pile of bricks at her feet. She watched as the fires engulfed her city, he old home included. She remembered the thick smoke that had filled her lungs and collapsing on the ground while a Union soldier defended her against the Confederacy and other Union soldiers. With every step she took she tried to ignore the gun shots that echoed in her head and the strong scent of death that lingered in the air long after the battle. It wasn't until she staggered back with her eyes closed that she even realized that she had retreated into her own memory again. She leaned against Alfred, making him support her.

"Virginia! Virginia!" he yelled. Virginia had difficulty finding balance, having Alfred wrap his arm around her tiny waist to hold her up.

"Alfred, please. I'm fine" she assured him. Alfred helped her gain balance much to the dismay of her fiancé who had witnessed it all from afar. He ran through the street to the scene unfolding between Alfred and Virginia.

"Victoria!" he called out her human name. Alfred and Victoria turned their heads to see a tall man, not much shorter than Alfred running at them. His golden hair could be seen poking out from under his black hat. His emerald eyes were hidden under two bushy eyebrows that would be distracting to some. When he came to them he put a hand on Virginia's lower back, pulling her close, "You look sick. Are you feeling alright?" he inquired, panting.

"Arthur~" she sighed, "I'm fine"

"England? What are you doing here?" Alfred interjected. Arthur (England) looked at him with his eyes narrowed into a glare. Alfred tugged on Victoria's arm, indicating that he wanted her to be closer to him. Victoria rolled her eyes and stepped closer to him, giving Arthur an apologetic half smile.

"I decided to go on an stroll while waiting for you. I just so happened to be on my way back when I saw you from afar. I came rushing to you when I saw that Victoria was falling" Arthur defended.

"It's Virginia to you! Since when are you two so close that you can call her by her human name?" Arthur's brow furrowed into a scowl, "Ms. Virginia! Her name is Ms. Virginia!" Alfred went on. Arthur was taken back by the strong stench of liquor that lingered on Alfred's breath. Arthur took a step back with a look of disgust. Alfred took another step closer to him. A way of challenging his former 'Big Brother'. Arthur did not shy away from the challenge. Ignoring the terrible stench he leaned closer to Alfred to show that he was prepared to fight.

"Drinking before noon, Alfred? I suppose I shouldn't expect anything else from you" Arthur insulted.

"You limey-" Victoria placed herself between the two men. She pressed both her hands gently against their chests. Alfred and Arthur didn't break eye contact but took a few steps away from each other.

"I don't want you two fighting before you even begin your mission", she began. She placed her open hands in front of them both, "Give me your guns. I don't want either of you pulling them out during dinner. Your school yard fights could get someone hurt" Alfred was unable to disobey her. Still glaring at Arthur, he pulled his Colt .45 out of its holster and placed it in Victoria's hand. Arthur pulled his Navy Revolver out of its holster, as well. He held it up long enough for Alfred to get a good look at it then gave it to Victoria. "Thank you. Come now", She snaked her arms around both Alfred and Arthur's arms, pulling them close and aiming the guns down at their feet with a cheerful smile, "I would appreciate having two handsome men escort me to the meeting" she coaxed.

"We don't need him. I can get you there" Alfred grumbled. Victoria moved the gun in her hand up, aiming it directly at his head. Alfred heard the sound of his gun slowly cocking and paused.

"What was that, Alfred?" she asked with that same cheerful smile. Alfred's glare had softened to a blank expression, hiding his fear of the woman that held on to him.

"I didn't say anything" he gulped, "Ma'am" Arthur snickered at how Alfred had been so easily taken down. Victoria repeated her action, this time aiming the gun in her other hand at Arthur's head and slowly cocking it with a cheerful smile.

"Is there anything that you wish to say, Arthur?" she asked. Arthur was now wearing the same blank expression that Alfred was still wearing.

"Of course not" he gulped, "Dear"

"Good. Then we should be underway" the trio went on to the hotel that the meeting would be taking place in. When Victoria lowered her guns both men let out a sigh of relief. The three of them walked to the hotel where the meeting would take place. Though Victoria held on to both men most of her attention was directed at Arthur.

"I'm pleased to see you made it to America safely" she spoke. Alfred rolled his eyes. Arthur looked down at her with a soft smile. A smile that Alfred hadn't seen in years. Not since their brief courtship before Alfred broke free from British rule. When she returned the smile Alfred made an immediate move.

"Thank you. I'm pleased to see-" Arthur was cut off by Alfred moving himself between the two and holding Victoria close to him.

"Pleased to see that America is doing so well since the end of the war." Alfred finished for him, "That's what you were going to say, right?"

"Actually, I was going to say that I'm pleased to see that Victoria is doing well considering how poor her health has been of late" Arthur corrected with a threatening glare. Victoria shook her head and let out a disappointed sigh.

The hotel was a run down inn. The walls were paper thin and the floors were stained. There was also this strange aroma that permeated from building. Victoria had wondered why the president had chosen such a lowly place to hold such an important meeting. When they entered two rats sped forward, straight under Victoria's skirt. She jumped away accidently bumping into Arthur.

"It's alright. They're gone" he chuckled.

"I hate rats" she grumbled. A sickly man came out from the broom closet and looked at the trio standing at the door way. His hair was matted mess and all his teeth had turned yellow. When he saw Victoria he licked his dry lips and flashed her a toothy grin.

"Welcome, Miss. What can I do for a lovely woman, such as yourself?" he flirted. Alfred and Arthur stepped in front of her defensively. She regained her composure and took in a few deep breaths to calm herself.

"We're here to see Gilbert Beilschmidt" Arthur informed him. The man kept his eyes on Victoria. Victoria was beginning to feel uncomfortable at the man's leering. She tapped Alfred and Arthur on their shoulders with the barrel of the guns she was still holding. When they turned to her they saw that she was offering them their guns back.

"Thank you, Dear" Arthur thanked. Alfred simply took his gun and fired a warning shot at the man's head. Alfred had missed him but the smoking bullet hole in the wall was enough to take the man's attention off Victoria.

"Mr. Beilschmidt, if you please" Alfred spoke calmly to him. The man stood in stunned silence. The man was beginning to annoy Arthur, as well. He took his gun and aimed it at the man. Victoria stood surprisingly calm. Typically, she was the voice of reason and peace. Alfred assumed that the reason she wasn't stopping him was because she knew that neither of the men would shoot the human man for such a trivial reason. The stand off came to a halt when they heard a footsteps come rushing down the stairs. The tall figure of man with blood red eyes came into view, pausing with a rifle aimed and ready to ready to fire. When he saw that it was just Alfred and Arthur threatening the man from the front desk he lowered his rifle.

"What are you idiots-" the man paused, "Ms. Victoria!" he burst. He walked past the stand off to where Arthur and Alfred guarded Victoria. He pushed past them both, much to their annoyance. He leaned his rifle against the desk then flashed Victoria a wide grin.

"Mr. Beilschmidt. It's a pleasure seeing you again" Victoria greeted.

"No need to be so formal. Call me Gilbert, I insist. I haven't seen you in so long. Not since the Revolutionary War. How have you been?"

"I've seen healthier days but I'm getting better. Slowly but surely"

"Ah. Good, good. Congratulations on your engagement," he turned to Arthur and gave him a hard slap on the back, "You're a lucky man, Britain! She's a fine woman!" he burst. Alfred's face transformed into a hateful scowl directed at Arthur. He cocked his gun then aimed it Arthur's head. Victoria pushed Alfred's hand up, accidently making him pull the trigger and shooting the ceiling. Arthur and Gilbert flinched with their hands held above their head to protect themselves.

"Bloody hell, Alfred! Why did you do that?" Arthur demanded.

"You're engaged to Victoria. So now I have to kill you" Alfred explained calmly.

"You didn't know that?" Gilbert asked with a puzzled expression.

"No! We were planning on telling him at a better time! Preferably when he wasn't holding a gun" Arthur explained to Gilbert. Victoria swiped Alfred's and Arthur's guns away and glowered at them both.

"Now you listen here! The both of you! You two have differences, then fine! However, don't either of you even dare to try to blow each other's brains out in my presence! You're going on a mission that will require all three of you to have complete trust in each other! This isn't the way to start it off! I'm going to return your guns but not until you both promise to not shoot each other" she chided. Alfred crossed his arms with a pout. An action that Arthur had replicated.

"I promise" Alfred mumbled.

"I promise, as well" Arthur agreed. Victoria returned their guns, satisfied that she had gotten to them both. Gilbert slung his rifle over his shoulder. He offered his arm to Victoria and removed his hat, holding it over his heart.

"Please. It would be an honor to escort a fine lady, such as yourself, to where the meeting is being held. If you would have me" he offered. Victoria slid her hand around his arm with a grateful smile.

"The honor is all mine, Mr. Beilschmidt" she replied, "I mean, Gilbert. It's so refreshing to find a gentleman at such a dreary time" the pair started to walk off up the stairs, "You'd think that my fiancé would be more willing to escort me. Especially after not seeing me in almost a century but you are a fine, fine replacement" she complimented, just loud enough for Alfred and Arthur to hear.

"Coming from you, that is the highest of compliments" he flirted. Arthur and Alfred glowered at Gilbert as he escorted Victoria up the stairs to the bedroom where the meeting was to be held. As they made their way Gilbert turned his head and flashed them a triumphant grin. This only made Alfred and Arthur more angry with the Prussian.

Gilbert finally came to a stop at the last door at the end of the second floor hallway. He opened the door a dingy bedroom that was dimly lighted by the sunlight shining through the closed windows. Sitting on the bed was an older man, probably in his mid fifties, holding a picture in his hand. Sitting in the far corner was a woman that made Victoria's heart stop. She had an elegance that radiated off her. Her light brown hair falling loosely around her exposed shoulders. Her violet eyes matched the color of her silk gown that had obviously been put on in a rush. She looked at Victoria and gave her a bitter smile.

"Victoria. It's so nice to see you again" she greeted. Victoria gulped.

"You, as well. Ms. France" Victoria responded.

"I heard you and my former husband are to be wed. Congratulations. You've succeeded in obtaining my leftovers"

"Thank you. Your congratulations are well appreciated. Excuse me" Victoria weaved her way past the men, back to the front desk.

"That was uncalled for, Françoise" Gilbert chided.

"Perhaps to you" she chuckled.

"Bitter old harpy" Arthur insulted.

"Let's get on with it. Ms. Bonnefoy. Will you please leave us?" the man asked. Françoise scoffed at this offense but didn't argue. She walked off, mumbling to herself in French. Alfred, Arthur and Gilbert entered the room and made sure to lock the door. Once inside Gilbert took the chair that Françoise was sitting in. Alfred seated himself on the bed while Arthur had chosen to stand. The man stood up to address the three countries.

"The President sends his apologies that he could not meet you in a nicer environment" he started while glancing around at the poor state of the room, "but this is a sensitive matter. He hopes that you can forgive him. To start with, the man you're hunting is named Winifred Henry. If our intelligence is correct, after he discovered the existence of Britain he immigrated to Prussia. Somehow, this man discovered the existence of Prussia and now he is here in America. Due to the recent letter the president received from Henry, requesting a generous financial donation to his pockets otherwise he would make his knowledge public. We've asked you all to meet here in Richmond because this is where the letter was sent from" the man went on to explain.

"Well why don't you just do a quick sweep of the city and find him?" Alfred inquired.

"It's already been done and no one has seen a man matching Henry's description" he countered. The man passed Alfred the picture they had seen him holding. Alfred examined the picture of young man, perhaps in his mid thirties, with unkempt blonde hair. His scraggly beard stopped at his chest. He was dressed poorly, as expected of an immigrant. He passed the picture to Arthur who, after examining it, passed it to Gilbert.

"If nobody has seen his description then how was he able to get out of Richmond?" Gilbert questioned.

"I say we just let him tell everybody about our existence. Everyone will write him off as a mad man" Arthur interjected.

"That may be so but you don't seem to understand. If one mad man speaks loud enough, more mad men will agree with him. We wish to deal with this one mad man before he gets a following and raises hell against the government for lying to the people. Not just the American government but both Prussian and English. The death of this one man will grant us all peace of mind" the man explained.

"Death?" Arthur, Alfred and Gilbert asked in unison.

"I mean, the arrest of Henry. However, if he were to accidently die in battle, assuming he fights back when you find him, well. Nobody could blame anyone for that, now could they?" the man replied. The countries understood that they were expected to kill Henry. They had no issue with killing but that they all had to waste their time chasing after this one man is what bothered them. It felt like a waste of their time when they had more important issues to attend to.

"And you couldn't get someone else to do this? You had to pull us from our work to chase after one man?" Alfred asked with an annoyed tone.

"Considering that it was Britain's fault for being discovered, Prussia's fault for not shutting him up when Henry discovered his existence and Henry is on American soil, it only seemed fitting that the men who caused it should be the ones who fix it" the man replied, just as annoyed.

"Do we even know where he is?" Arthur pointed out.

"Though he was not seen in Richmond, a man matching his description was last seen making his way to Kentucky by horse. If you leave now you can probably pick up on his trail"

"We can leave in the morning. At dawn" Gilbert suggested.

"Fine. Dawn it is. I'll have horses waiting for you when you leave", the man bowed politely at the countries, "Good luck, men. May God give you a steady hand and good aim in your endeavor"

Meanwhile downstairs, Françoise and Victoria sat across from each other with a tea set between them. There was an awkward silence between them. Victoria saw no reason for the silence to continue when she had a few questions that she wished to be answered.

"What reason is there for you to be here? I was told that only Arthur and Gilbert were involved in the mission" Victoria spoke. Françoise took a sip of her tea.

"Gilbert invited me to come. To keep him company on his assignment but that might change" Françoise replied, "What are your reasons for being here?"

"While Alfred is away I will be staying in Nebraska with Matthew and my maid, Abigail. The fresh air will be of help with my poor health" Victoria poured more tea into her own cup.

"Oh, I haven't seen Mattie in years! We speak often through letters but I haven't seen him face to face in so long" she exclaimed.

"Yes. It was very sweet of him to agree to watch over me while Alfred and the others go on their man hunt" Victoria took a sip of her tea.

"Would you mind if I came along with you to Nebraska? I miss Mattie. It would be a true treat if I could come with you" Victoria choked on her tea at such a proposal. Françoise watched Victoria regain her composure with a satisfied smirk on her face.

"I would not object to having lady, such as yourself, come on this trip with me" Victoria agreed. Françoise clapped her hands gleefully.

"Wonderful! And while we're there we can start planning your wedding! Assuming you'll be having one" Victoria was beginning to become suspicious of Françoise's intentions. She seemed to too sweet. Though, for as long as Victoria had known her, she had always been a romantic. Perhaps a wedding is just thing they need for them to mend their strained relationship.

"Yes, a wedding will happen. A small one, though. Most of the other states will not be attending. They're all far too busy trying to repair themselves due to the war. So mostly only our closest friends will be invited" Victoria began, thinking that she had managed to find a middle ground with Françoise.

"That sounds lovely. I remember my wedding to Arthur. It was a large spectacle. Wine, song. It was a very joyful day. Shame we had to end our marriage. The sex was great. Of all the men and women I've had intercourse with, he's defiantly one of the best. But you would know that considering you two are to be wed" Victoria sat in stunned silence at Françoise's blunt confession.

"That's hardly an appropriate topic for a morning tea" Victoria replied, with her cheeks tinted pink.

"But what is there to hide from two women who have already bed him? Unless...", Victoria said nothing. Instead, looking away embarrassed, "Unless you haven't bedded him"

"That is private. You are too forward" Victoria deflected. Françoise and Victoria narrowed their eyes into a glare. They both sat dignified. A woman's way of issuing a challenge.

"I am too forward? That's rich coming from the woman who fooled around with my husband while we were still married" and there it was. The deep rift between had finally come to surface.

"I told you this repeatedly in the past, Arthur and I did not fool around. Our courtship was inappropriate and ill-timed but we never became physical. I told him that I would not give myself wholly to him if he still wore your wedding band on his finger. He understood and our courtship came to an end" Victoria defended.

"That is a blatant lie. I always saw you and Arthur exchanging looks. You two hardly tried to hide your love. And those late night meetings you and Arthur so often. Did you really think that I did not know? If so, you insult my intelligence" Françoise replied.

"Insulting your intelligence was never my goal. Though, you should hardly throw stones on such a subject. Arthur and I may have had meetings late at night but all we did was have dinner and talk. You were not so innocent. Arthur was very aware of your escapades with Gilbert Beilschmidt, Antonio Carriedo, the butcher, the butcher's son, the shoe maker's daughter and even the preacher. To name a few. You can accuse Arthur of infidelity all you want but don't act as if you're the victim in this situation" Victoria had her jaw set. Anger was boiling inside her, ready to be unleashed on Françoise at any moment.

"An excellent point, Ms. Jones. Or should I say Mrs. Kirkland" Françoise sighed, "Please accept my sincerest apologies for starting such a heated debate. I will admit that I was jealous that you were able to take my husband's attentions away from me. But that was a long time ago. I've gotten over Arthur. Truth be told, I was happy that the marriage ended. It was difficult being with him. I was just bitter that not even a day after the divorce was officiated you two were engaged. Still am, on some level" Françoise confessed.

"Apology accepted. I don't blame you. Were I in your position I would be bitter too" Victoria comforted.

"You're so understanding. I can see why Arthur would love you. I still think that you two were fooling around but it's comforting knowing that he has found some happiness after losing America. Does the offer still stand for me to accompany you on your trip to Nebraska?"

"Against my better judgment, yes. It does. Perhaps planning a wedding together could be the first step to mending fences with each other" Victoria smiled at her.

"Oh good! Because I have some ideas for your dress!" Françoise enthusiastically started. Victoria gave her a tired sigh.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur sat on one side of the bed untying his shoes. Sitting on the other side was Victoria. She brushed the tangles from her hair while humming a song that Arthur was unfamiliar with. Arthur stood up and removed his suspenders, along with his button up shirt. He listened to the soft humming, a cheerful tune that was lined with nostaligia. He assumed that the reason for such a combination was because Victoria had gone deep into thought. When he first colonized America, establishing Jamestown, Victoria had assumed role of being its human face. She worked as a housekeeper to both him and Françoise during their time in America. As time progressed, she became more of a mother figure of the house and, to his secret shame, a woman to fill his need for affirmation.

Arthur removed his shirt and threw it on the chair. He laid on the bed, his head resting on his left hand. He looked over at Virginia to see that the candlelight's soft glow was able to cast a shadow of her figure hidden under her white nightgown. He raised himself on his arms.

"What are you humming?" he inquired. Victoria stopped brushing her hair and laid the brush on the nightstand.

"It's a song" she replied with a cheeky smile. Her wry sense of humor showing itself. Arthur scoffed, not amused but secretly hiding that he actually was indeed amused by her.

"Funny" he replied dryly. Arthur laid himself down.

"I'm glad you think so" she chuckled. Victoria laid next to Arthur, nestling her head in the crook of his neck. Arthur brought his hand to her hair and stroked it lovingly.

"You smell like honey" he observed, "I almost forgot what that smelled like"

"I did too. I once smelled like manure farm for weeks" the pair chuckled at her joke. Arthur used his other hand to lift her hand that had the beautiful enganement ring on her finger. He gave the ring a kiss then rested her hand on his bare chest. He brought her head up to give her a kiss. The kiss was soft. They would have expected their first kiss since their previous engagement to be filled with more passion. This kiss was sweeter. The way a man appreciates his home after being away so long is the way that Arthur and Victoria appreciated their kiss and these peaceful moments. Arthur pulled away from Victoria with a loving smile, thankful that it was too dark for her to see his blush.

"I'm surprised you kept the ring. I thought you would have thrown it out after the Revolution" he spoke. He had given her the ring back during their courtship as a token of his affection.

"I could never throw it out, Arthur. Sell it maybe. If the offer was high enough but simply throw it out, never" she joked.

"You know, I'm beginning to tire of your jokes at my expense" Victoria laughed then gave him a peck on the nose, "You have yet to answer my question"

"It's a song called 'Dixie Land'" she said in a matter-of-fact way, "A dance tune that sounds better as a lullaby, in my opinion"

"Sing it for me" he requested. She glanced at him with a curious raise of her eyebrow.

"Since when are you interested in American culture?" she chuckled.

"Since I'll be marrying an American. Sing for me" he begged. Victoria sighed then cleared her throat.

_"I wish I was in the land of cotton. Old times they are not forgotten. _

_Look away, look away, look away, Dixie Land. In Dixie's land where I was born early on one frosty morn, look away, look away, look away, Dixie Land"  
_

Alfred laid on his back, listening to Victoria sing Arthur the Dixie Lullaby, as he privately called it. The walls were too thin to secure the sounds between the rooms surrounding him. His room was sandwiched between the future Mr. and Mrs. Kirkland and Gilbert and Françoise. He listened to the softly sung words of Dixie and the stifled moaning of the 'active' couple next door. Tears fell in single droplets down the side of eyes, wetting his ears. It felt as if he was losing his mother to another man. A better man. The idea that in a few short months he would be replaced caused a strong pain to settle in his chest. He felt betrayed that she hadn't told him that she was engaged to Arthur. It made his sick to think that she would leave America, now of all times, to go get married to a man that less than a century ago had oppressed them. It was a kick to the face that hurt him more than he could express. Tears began to fall faster. Alfred sat up in the bed with his hands covering his face. Quietly, he sobbed to himself at the loss of his final family member.

_"I wish I was in Dixie. Hooray, hooray. In Dixie's Land I'll take my stand to live and die in Dixie._

_ Away, away, away down south in Dixie. Away, away, away down south in Dixie"_

Arthur stared up at the ceiling with his future bride nestled protectively in his arms. He had hoped one day to return to Virginia under better circumstances. Such to offer Victoria a proper marriage proposal but he was grateful to have this private moment with her. The world had faded into the slow tune of 'Dixie Land'. He had faced his fair share of battles and war. His body was a living piece of history. Scars decorated every part of his body, each one with their own story to tell. These stories became the path that lead Arthur to where he was now. Some scars were happy ones that he smiled at with funny or happy stories behind them. Others were much darker. Dark stories that should have never happened. He secretly envied Alfred's almost flawless skin. He was still untouched by the world. Ambitious and seeking to expand his empire. When he looked at Alfred, he saw himself before their falling out. Now he felt as if they could start new. He figured that Alfred would be upset at the marriage but with Victoria as their common ground, he thought that a new relationship could be formed. One better than when he left. His gaze shifted down to Victoria. He thanked God that he was able to have this opportunity to have both the woman he loved and the colony, more like a son, come back to him. Despite his sins of the past.

_"Old Missus marry 'Will the Weaver', Willium was a gay deceiver; Look away, look away, look away, Dixie Land._

_And when he put his arm around 'er he smiled as fierce as forty-pounder. _

_Look away, look away, look away, Dixie Land"_

Gilbert and Françoise had finished their activity and she was now sleeping next to him. He held a small paper between his fingers and sprinkled tobacco on to it. He rolled it up then held it place between his middle and index finger as he used the candle flame to light it. He brought the rolled up tobacco to his lips and inhaled. He looked over at Françoise's bare body with an acute feeling of emptiness. A well fed man, sexually and otherwise, had no reason to complain that he was incomplete. With the recent growth of Ludwig his place in his brother's life had diminished. He was well aware of that and didn't protest. He understood that one day his brother would grow up. What he was unaware of was how independent and strong Ludwig would become. Gilbert felt satisfied that he had brought his brother up to be such a good, strong man but now he felt lost. His professional life would keep him busy. However, he didn't like the idea of coming home to a cold house. He wondered if this is what mothers felt like when their children grow and start a life of their own then he exhaled, watching the smoke dance in front of him. While doing so, he realized only now that Victoria was singing. He could hear her faintly though the walls. He rested head on the wall behind him and listened.

_"I wish I was in Dixie, hooray. Hooray. In Dixie's Land I'll take my stand to live and die in Dixie._

_Away, away, away down South in Dixie. Away, away, away down South in Dixie"_

Françoise stared blankly into the dim light. Her pillow had become soaked by her silent crying. Strands of her hair fall on her face, as if it were giving her shelter. A sanctuary for her cry in. As she listened to faint words of Dixie being sung she felt her heart being torn open. Her bitterness from earlier wasn't true bitterness. She blamed herself for the end of their marriage. Not Victoria. Arthur sought refuge in Victoria's bed. Françoise had pushed him away by her insatiable need for love. He had given all he had to her. Everything he was he gave to her but it wasn't enough. She always wanted more love. It was only natural that he should find himself another woman that could dedicate herself to him just as he would to her. It felt natural to project her bitterness on to Victoria. So she kept doing it. And she would continue to do it until the bitterness subsides. Dixie was a lovely song. She, herself only heard it once when Alfred came to a world meeting singing it at the top of his lungs. At the time she thought it to be a silly song but now, listening to it in the dim of night sung by Victoria it seemed more like a song about leaving home. It was saddening. When she sang her Virginian accent was very prominent and it was oddly enchanting. For an American. Françoise closed her eyes. She tried to pry her thoughts away from the loss of her love and envision the land of Dixie that Victoria was singing of.

* * *

The following morning Victoria and Françoise had risen early to see their male companions off. When standing side by side it was easy to distinguish the differences between Victoria and Françoise. Victoria was dressed modestly, in plain dresses yet her demeanor was dignified. She was the epitome of what a true American Southern Belle should be. Perfect manners and a kind smile that made strangers gravitate to her. Françoise, on the other hand, radiated elegance. As if she were the princess in a fairy tail riding through her kingdom making her subjects stop and stare at her in awe of her beauty. Fashionably sensitive, never was there a time when she wasn't looking beautiful. Physically, some would say that Victoria is a plain thing in comparison to Françoise. The Frenchwoman never failed to astonish onlookers with her aura of sophistication and beauty. Unlike Victoria, who's beauty lied in her personality.

At the front of the hotel were three horses waiting for the men. When the men sauntered outside, Françoise and Victoria greeted them with bright smiles. Victoria gave them a deep, respectful curtsey. Françoise, on the other hand, threw her arms around Gilbert's neck and gave him a long, passionate goodbye kiss. Alfred stared at them dazed, Arthur ignored them and approached his fiance with a sad smile.

"Be careful, Arthur. I don't want you to get hurt" she said with her eyes cast downward. He took her chin by his thumb and index finger and raised her head up for her to look at him.

"It will only be a few days. A week at least. Wipe that sad look off your face. We'll be home before you know it" he comforted. She raised herself on her tiptoes and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Watch over Alfred" she whispered to his ear. Arthur cupped her cheek and pulled her into a kiss. Not as passionate as the one Gilbert and Françoise were still sharing but enough for him to silently tell her that he would do as she asked. Alfred pulled Arthur away in mid kiss.

"You ass!" he yelled at his former colony.

"I'll miss you, Victoria" Alfred said to her, "Take care. Don't strain yourself. And if anything goes wrong just shout and I'll be there. I promise" Victoria gave him a warm smile.

"I will. You take care of yourself out there. Remember my rules and come home safe. When you get home I'll cook a big feast of your favorite foods. That's my promise" A childlike grin spread across Alfred's face. His mouth watered at the thought of sitting outside with Victoria eating corn pone, peach cobbler and washing it all down with a cool, tall glass of sweet tea. There were other foods that he would surely request Victoria to make but his mind was stuck on that peach cobbler.

"In that case, I'll be back in an hour!" Alfred laughed. His carefree facade draped over his exterior hiding the internal turmoil he was facing.

"It's good to see that you retain your humor even now" Victoria laughed. Alfred abruptly pulled her into a tight hug. He poured all his emotions into the hug, hoping that she would understand how important she was to him. He wouldn't dare voice his feelings to her in the presence of Arthur but hoped this gesture would be enough to get to her. When he released her she had a look of understanding.

"I love you, Alfred. You will always be my son no matter where I go" she whispered to him.

"I love you too, mother" he whispered back.

"So dramatic" Gilbert interjected. Victoria gave Gilbert a motherly smile.

"Gilbert. Please be safe" she addressed him with that smile that made Gilbert feel warm on the inside. He gave her a polite bow, "Oh don't be silly. You're practically family. Come here!" Victoria approached him with her arms open. Gilbert opened his arms and gave her a tight hug, spinning her around.

"That's enough!" Alfred and Arthur yelled at Gilbert in unison. Gilbert put her down and they both stared blankly at them.

"It's funny when Arthur and Alfred get mad" he said to Victoria as if they weren't there.

"Oh yes, quite" Victoria agreed.

"We're right here!" Alfred and Arthur yelled together. Françoise, Gilbert and Victoria burst into laughter. When they had finished Françoise approached Alfred. She bounced on to her tiptoes and ruffled his hair. Alfred was too tired to protest.

"You watch Arthur's back! The wilderness might damage the fragile Brit" she laughed.

"Shut it, Frog Princess!" she yelled at her. Ignoring Arthur, she gave Alfred a peck on the cheek.

"I'll watch his back," he chuckled,"then shoot it when he least expects it" he grumbled to himself. Françoise looked over at Arthur. She waved at him with a bright smile.

"You be safe too. Don't die. If anyone is going to kill you it will be me. If Alfred doesn't get to you first" Françoise and Victoria moved back to their original spots. The men stood before them baring their weapons proudly, along with their tired courage. Thinking that there was nothing left to say, all three men mounted their horses. Before leaving Alfred tipped his hat, that was given to him by Abigail when she came the previous day, at Victoria. Arthur gave Victoria a sad but hopeful goodbye smile. Gilbert waved goodbye to Françoise and gave Victoria a tip of his hat. After that, all three men sped off into the dawn.

"Miss Victoria" Françoise and Victoria turned their head to see Abigail standing shyly at the doorway.

"What is it, Dear?" Victoria asked. Abigail came out holding two plates of poorly cooked ham and eggs.

"Breakfast" Abigail replied sheepishly. Françoise brushed past Abigail and trotted up the stairs to the bedroom she and Gilbert had shared the night before. Abigail kept her eyes on her until she had walked out of sight. When she did she looked back at Victoria with a worried expression, "Did I do somethin' wrong?"

"It's not you, Abigail. She's just a deeply troubled woman and needs time alone. Come. Let's go have breakfast" Victoria followed Abigail into the dining room where she sat to eat in lonely silence. She had ordered Abigail to organize her possessions and prepare for their departure at seven-thirty. Truth was, Victoria just wanted to be left alone with her thoughts.

* * *

The horse ride was already beginning to feel gloomy. Alfred wasn't being his energetic self. In fact, he looked more consumed in his own thoughts than watching the outside world. Arthur rode up to Alfred and put a hand on his shoulder. Alfred shrugged it off.

"Alfred, is there something you would like to talk about? You don't seem much like yourself" Arthur questioned with concern written on his face.

"Not with you" Alfred deflected.

"Is this about my marriage to Victoria?" Arthur pressed on.

"I said I don't want to talk. Or do you not understand English?" Alfred moved his glare over to Arthur. Arthur returned the glare to hide that Alfred had actually hurt him.

"Fine. Have it your way" Arthur moved his horse to the front of the trio to avoid having to look at Alfred and Gilbert. Gilbert rode up next to Alfred with his signature smirk. He gave Alfred a hard slap on the back.

"Cheer up! There's more to this than just hunting Henry. I hear that the whores of America are the best around!" Gilbert burst, trying to lift the mood.

"That they are! There's this one in Louisiana woo! The girl got some legs on her!" Alfred exclaimed.

"Can take ya for a ride, huh?"

"Like a wild horse trying to buck his rider off!" Arthur ignored their prattle about whores, gunfights and alcohol. Arthur's mind drifted, trying to recall the lullaby that Victoria had sang to him the night before. He wondered if America knew Dixie. He noticed the significant difference in Alfred since the end of the war. He was darker. His carefree spirit would come to light but to Arthur it seemed artificial. He suspected that Alfred was keeping quiet about his thoughts on the marriage. Though, there was something else lingering over Alfred that made him more concerned. It almost seemed like the scars of war were not physical, in his case. Judging by the way Alfred was trying portray himself now, as the humorous, excited gunslinger and parading his achievements in war, he suspected that the scars he bore were mental. That would make sense considering what he is recovering from. Arthur promised himself then that he would try to be patient with Alfred throughout the trip.

* * *

**Midnight, a cottage in Kansas**

Victoria stared out the window of her assigned bedroom. She could see from a distance the small balls of light bouncing together, one after the other. It was like a moving row of fireflies migrating west. The reality, those balls of light were travelers passing through Kansas trying to make their way to Oregon. Victoria had heard tales of these brave pioneers that tried to progress America west. It was an attractive thought that one day America could span from one ocean to the other but she couldn't help but to feel melancholy about the Native Americans who were having their homes and land taken. She could understand their plight, on some level. She had lost her home and most of her possessions during the war. She moved her hand over her ring. She wondered what Arthur, Alfred and Gilbert were doing now.

Matthew knocked on her open door. He then poked his head in, seeing her standing there distracted by the settlers far off. He saw that she had yet to change out her dress. He figured that she would have changed by now. Then again, he himself was not dressed for bed either. He cleared his throat. She paid him no attention.

"Victoria?" He called to her. She turned to him with a look or surprise. She walked to him, holding her hands against her chest.

"I'm sorry, Matthew. I didn't hear you walk in" she replied.

"It's alright. I get that a lot" He took her hand. He brought her hand up to his lips, giving it a small back on her knuckles. He lead her to the bed, "Won't you sit down?" Victoria sat on the bed. Matthew sat next to her. He had not seen her in years. He had heard of her well being through letters he exchanged with Alfred. In his mind, she was still the motherly maid of his childhood that would clean his messes and cook his food. When he saw how frail she had become over these past years his mind began to recall Alfred's description of her state. Matthew had expected maybe some paleness in her cheeks. Not the small, trembling figure next to him.

"What are you doing up this late at night?" she asked him.

"I could as you the same thing" he replied. Victoria slid her hand into his. Her hand was rough. Not at all soft like he remembered. Her hand had calluses decorating the palm and fingers from years of hard work, "Your hands aren't as soft as I remember"

"That's because you were just a baby. They got harder over the years," Victoria looked down trying to hide the sorrow in her brown eyes, "I'm going to miss America. I feel like I'll be seeing the progression of America from the outside" she said, mostly to herself. Matthew pulled her into a comforting hug.

"That's not true" he comforted.

"Yes, it is. I feel like I'm abandoning my own son. Do you think I should postpone my marriage?" she looked at him with expectant eyes. She was expecting an honest answer from him and he would give no less. As a child, he learned that lying to her never ended well.

"No, I don't think so. It may not seem like it to you but Alfred is a grown man. Perhaps some separation would do him well. Not to mention, you've been through hard times yourself. If you can find happiness, with anyone, anywhere, then there is nothing wrong with pursuing it" he told her. She looked away thoughtfully.

"Thank you, Matthew", then she realized, "Why have you come to my room so late?"

"Oh, I just finished speaking with Françoise. I was on my way to bed when I saw the light in your bedroom. I thought I might come in and speak with you"

"Well thank you. I appreciate the thought" the tiredness that she wasn't feeling before was finally beginning to set it. She let out a long yawn and stretched her arms upwards.

"It seems that you're tired. I'll leave you be for tonight" Matthew gave her a peck on the side of the head then stood up. He himself let out a yawn, "Goodnight" he began to walk out of the bedroom but was stopped when Victoria called out his name. He turned to her.

"Thank you for taking care of me while Alfred is away. I appreciate it and I'm sure Alfred does, as well" she thanked him. Matthew gave her a smile.

"You're quite welcome" he replied before disappearing into the dark hallway. Victoria sighed and laid herself on the bed. She shoved her doubts away from her mind then drifted off into sleep.

* * *

A burning scent was thick in the air, making the tenants of the quaint cottage wake up from their sleep. Abigail was the first to wake. She poked her head out of the servants quarters door to see that the Kitchen was still in tact. She made her way through the kitchen to the front room. She still couldn't find the the source of the fire. She took a sniff of the air, following it outside. When she came out on the porch she could see the trail of travelers in the distance, not far off really. Some of the small balls of light that were there before had become a large fire that could clearly be seen. The screams that rang into the night were coming from the trail of travelers. A gun shot was set off, followed by the battle cry of Native Indians. The cries became louder and the gunshots became more frequent. One after the other in a frenzy of panic. Abigail froze in fear. Her mind was telling her to run. Awake the others. Tell them what was happening but she couldn't find the will move. It wasn't until Matthew came running down the stairs to the porch that she was snapped back into reality. Matthew pulled her back inside and shut the door.

"Don't you dare open this door. Go check on Victoria and Fran-" his instructions came to a halt when Françoise came running down the stairs completely naked and holding a double barrel shotgun.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

"Why are you naked?!" yelled Matthew and Abigail in unison.

"This isn't the time for that! Are we being attacked?" Françoise yelled back.

"We're not but the settlers are. Give me the shotgun! There's another gun under my bed and get the ammunition!" he instructed Françoise. The Frenchwoman nodded her head then ran off to his bedroom to follow his instructions. Matthew cocked the gun and put his arm protectively around Abigail. He lead her back through the kitchen and to the servant's quarters, "Stay there" he ordered. Abigail ran to the corner of the room. She brought her knees to her chest and covered her ears tightly with her hands. Matthew shut the servant's quarters door and locked it. He made a run back tot he front room where Françoise was loading her rifle. She had the decency to put on one of Matthew's shirts but not enough to button it up.

"Should we wake Victoria?" she asked. Matthew opened his mouth to reply. He shut his mouth when a bullet flew through the door and into the house, leaving a rather large bullet hole in the door. Matthew spun around and aimed his shotgun out the bullet hole to see a white settler standing there drenched in his own blood. Matthew pulled the trigger. He hit him directly in the head killing the man. The man fell forward revealing another figure of a Native American. Matthew cocked the gun and pulled the trigger again but to his misfortune, missed. The Native hadn't seen the house before but Matthew had killed the settler he was trying to kill he now had a new target.

"Shit..." Matthew grumbled at the realization that he had to reload. He dropped to one knee and demanded from Françoise the ammunition. Instead she stepped in front of him and aimed her rifle at the running Native. She pulled the trigger, hitting him in the shoulder. His dramatic fall caught the attention of another Native nearby. Their efforts to remain hidden from the battle failed because now some of the Natives were making their way to the cottage. Matthew hastened the reload and Françoise tried to shoot another. To her pleasure she was able to kill one but there were still six more making their way.

Upstairs, Victoria was preparing herself for the fight. She pulled her skirts up and removed a Colt Army Model 1860 from her stockings. She quickly checked to see if it was loaded. Thankfully, it was. She cocked her gun and pulled the door open. As she began to make her way downstairs she collided with a Native that managed his way upstairs. He was tall and well built. Similar to Alfred's body type. He glared down at her with savage, bloodthirsty eyes that were especially terrifying against his dark battle paint. She raised her gun up at his head, shut her eyes tightly and pulled the trigger three times in a panic. The Native grabbed her wrist and twisted. Her wrist made a cracking noise and she let out a cry. The gun fell from her hand, on to the floor. When it fell it accidentally went off, shooting the Native in the ankle. He released Victoria, cringed and fell on to the floor, cursing his tongue. Victoria took her gun with her hand that wasn't wounded and rand downstairs hoping that she would be able to help with their fight. When she came downstairs she saw that there were others in the house. At least five Natives left. Françoise wrestled two to the ground in the nude. Victoria couldn't deny the woman's vigor. Matthew was using his gun as a blunt weapon, trying to fight back three by himself. Victoria lifted her gun and fired at a Native that had managed to disarm Matthew. The Native's head snapped back with a fresh bullet hole in the center of his forehead. One of the Natives that was wrestling Françoise ran after Victoria. Victoria tried to shot him while stumbling up the stairs but ended up tripping over her skirts. She fell back on to the stairs and firing her last two bullets in to the ceiling. The Native forced himself on top of her, lifting her over his shoulder. With the hilt of her gun she tried to hit him somewhere on his back or legs but it was no use.

"Victoria!" Matthew cried. Françoise snapped one of the Native's neck and looked up at Matthew. He shoved a Native against the wall and aimed his shot gun up into the distance at the Native that was running off with Victoria. He cocked his pulled the trigger. No bullet flew out. He forgot that it wasn't loaded. A Native tried to grab him from behind but Matthew had evaded his attack, flipping his attacker onto the ground. He slammed his foot on to his attacker's head, cracking the skull. Matthew spun around to face the final Native but when he tried to grab him the Native dodged is attack and darted out the door. Matthew ran outside with his blood drenched shotgun. The battle was over. The surviving settlers were trying to put out the fire and nurse the wounded. There were no more Native Indians in sight but just the dead victims of the onslaught. Matthew fell to his knees in failure. Françoise came out of the house while buttoning the shirt she wore. She stared out in to the field where Matthew sat. Abigail came crawling out of the kitchen on her knees.

"Is it over, Ma'am?" she asked with her voice trembling just as much as her body. Françoise brought her fingers up to her teeth and began to nibble on her nails.

"No. No, Abigail. I don't think it's over" she whispered, trying to contain her anxiety.

* * *

**Meanwhile, in Kentucky**

Gilbert was lead up the stairs by a scantily dressed woman. She was vision under the poor lighting and thick tobacco smoke. Golden hair, flawless skin and the most beautiful of hourglass figures that Gilbert had ever seen. She may have smelled of sweat, smoke and cheap liquor but to Gilbert, it only added to what made her beautiful. Alfred and Arthur watched Gilbert stumble up the stairs in his drunken state by the vulgar, obese saloon girl. Her cheeks were red, skin freckled but with a thick layer of white powder over her face, covering her blemishes. She struggled up the stairs to her room, stopping every so often to catch her breath. Alfred and Arthur continued to watch Gilbert possibly make a very big mistake in amusement. When Gilbert and his "Fair haired beauty" made it to her bedroom Alfred and Arthur exchanged smiles.

"Gilbert is going to regret that in the morning" Arthur chuckled while exhaling tobacco smoke. Alfred took a drink of his whiskey.

"I told him not to drink too much" Alfred laughed. Arthur looked down at the cards in his hands and tried to calculate his next move. Alfred did the same, convinced that he had the best cards. He looked over at the other players he was playing against. Arthur seemed indifferent to his cards while another wore a scowl and the other seemed to struggle to read the cards due to being intoxicated. The one wearing a scowl slammed his cards on the table and covered his face in frustration.

"Fold" he groaned. The drunken one flipped his cards to the dealer, showing his cards to his opponents.

"Wa...Whats this? I can't tell" he asked, his words slightly slurred. The dealer, Arthur and Alfred studied the cards carefully. The drunk had 5, 6,7,8 and 9.

"That's a Straight Flush" the dealer told him. Alfred and Arthur threw their cards on to the table with a defeated expression.

"Fold" Arthur sighed.

"Fold" Alfred said. The drunk threw his cards on the table and stomped his foot.

"Shit!" he yelled, "Take...take the money! I don't need it!" he hiccuped before stumbling away back to the bar. Arthur, Alfred and dealer roared in laughter at the foolish drunk.

"He comes here often. He's actually a pretty good poker player when he isn't drunk off his ass" the dealer chatted while taking the cards back, "Wanna go another round?" he asked while shuffling the cards. Arthur waved his hand.

"No thank you. I don't wish to lose all my money in one night" he chuckled. The dealer nodded in understanding.

"Me neither. I'll be watching the dancing girls" Alfred informed both men before taking a seat at one of the tables placed closest to the stage to get an up close view of the ladies dancing for him. Arthur snuffed out the rolled up paper in his fingers on the bottom of his boot. He brought out another small paper and tobacco. As he prepared himself another roll of tobacco he decided that perhaps he could get some information on Henry.

"Must be nice being a dealer. You get to rob people blind while watching such a lovely show" Arthur chatted to the dealer.

"It ain't always fun. Sometimes we get some rough boys in here that don't take kindly to being robbed blind" the dealer replied while organizing the poker chips.

"Well no one likes losing all their money. I bet you see a variety of characters here" Arthur rolled the small paper, packing the tobacco tightly in it. The dealer was getting suspicious of Arthur's questions.

"Yeah. Why you asking?" Arthur put the paper roll of tobacco between his lips and removed a match from his pocket. He used the bottom of his boot to light it and then light his tobacco. After that he inhaled the tobacco smoke deeply then exhaled it.

"I'm looking for a man named Winifred Henry" Arthur removed the picture that was given to him earlier and showed it to the dealer, "Looks like this" The dealer examined the picture before shrugging.

"Haven't seen him" he replied then resumed organizing the poker chips.

"Really? Because he was last seen coming to Kentucky and this saloon is the only one for miles. Travelers come here often. I'm fairly sure you've someone matching this description" Arthur pressed.

"Look, I ain't seen no one like that and even if I did I wouldn't tell you" Arthur groaned. He put the picture in his pocket and pulled seven dollars out, sliding it to the dealer. The dealer looked at the bribe then shoved it into his back pocket.

"My memory seems to be coming back. If only I had three more dollars, I think I could recollect a few more memories" Arthur removed his gun and aimed it at the dealer from under the table. He made sure to cock it slowly, for the dealer to hear it.

"Are you sure about that? I think seven is enough for any one to remember" he replied. The dealer nodded his head to show that he agreed with Arthur.

"Yeah, I've seen him. He came in here a few nights ago. Had a few drinks, gambled, took a whore upstairs then left the next morning. That's all I know" the dealer divulged to Arthur.

"Which prostitute did he take?"

"Layla" the dealer pointed to one of the dancers on stage. She had to be in her early twenties but Arthur couldn't really tell due to the heavy make up. She did a quick high kick that made Alfred clap his hands happily. Arthur put his gun back in his holster. He strode to the table Alfred was sitting at. He pulled Alfred across the table and whispered in his ear,

"Layla. The red head. Henry bought her for the night last time he was here" he informed him. Alfred looked at he dancing girls and spotted the red head wearing a gaudy green dress. She did another impressive high kick that outshone her other dancing companions. Alfred nodded.

"I got this" he whispered back. When the dance finished Alfred ran from his seat to catch Layla coming off the stage. She tried to avoid him at first but after getting a good look at his face she gave him a flirtatious smile, "Please don't be offended by this but how much do you charge for one night?" he asked.

"Five dollars but for you I'll give you a special discount" she flirted. Alfred pulled five dollars from his pocket and handed it to her. She took the money, slid it into her corset then lead him upstairs to her private room. When Arthur saw that they were alone he leaned back in his seat, drank what was left of Alfred's whiskey and watched the ladies on stage dance with a bored expression.

When alone Layla was quick to want to get to business. She laid on the bed, encouraging Alfred to, as she put it, "Ride me until morning comes". Though this was very, very tempting to Alfred he was here regarding Henry. If she still wanted him after he got the information he needed then he would without a doubt do as she asked him to. A woman always comes first.

"Miss Layla. Before we get to that, I must ask you a few questions first" he began.

"No, I don't like being tied and yes, I do anal but I charge an extra penny for that" she replied sharply. Alfred stood stunned before being able to get his thoughts in order.

"Not what I was going to ask but thank you for telling me. Winifred Henry. I am aware that you've serviced him a few nights ago" he replied.

"That old, depraved, sick puppy! Why on earth would you be asking about him?" her face became distorted into a disgusted look.

"I'm looking for him and I'm trying to follow his trail"

"Just follow the scent of shame and sickness" the conversation was going no where.

"Listen, Miss Layla. I will be more than happy to have you service me but not until you tell me what you know about Winifred Henry" Layla sat up with her arms crossed. Alfred sat next to her, holding his hat in his hands.

"He beat me. After I told him that I refused to be tied he beat me like a dog. I had Barker throw him out. Before he asked me to service him he seemed real nice. He had a British accent. Said he was going to be a rich man. He's probably headed to Louisville. Though, I'm not sure"

"Thank you. If you don't mind me asking, why are you telling me all this information for nothing in return? Couldn't that damage your reputation and ruin your business?" Alfred inquired.

"You said you was trying to find him. I assume it's because you wanna put him in jail or kill him. So I wanna help. I want you to find him and save me the trouble of putting a bullet in his head" Alfred cupped her cheek and brushed off her heavy make up. Under her white powder were the blotches of purple were Henry had struck her.

"I promise you, Miss Layla, I'll save you the trouble" he said. Layla smiled at him then moved herself on to his lap, straddling him. She stared deep into his cool blue eyes lustfully.

"Now. About that service..." she whispered.


	3. Chapter 3

In her frantic state, Abigail took the liberty of scrubbing the floors until they shined. Her entire being was shaking. Even as she scrubbed memories flashed through her head like photographs of all the violence she had witnessed throughout her lifetime. Bodies swinging on trees, the strong scent of burning flesh and the shrieks of agony. Her mind couldn't get a firm grip on reality. Victoria was a good mistress. She spoke kindly to her. She couldn't imagine her soft mistress being in such a terrible situation. All Abigail could find the strength to do was scrub away at imaginary blood stains.

Françoise found herself pacing back and forth in her bedroom. She had bitten her nails until they had begun to bleed and she was now coming upon a strong feeling of anxiety. Of what she had thought to experience being in America for the first time since the Revolutionary War, an attack by Natives and a kidnapping was at the bottom her list. She toyed with the idea of going after Victoria. The resentment she felt towards her surfaced in an unsavory way. She cringed at the idea of bringing Victoria back to the loving arms of her ex husband. It wasn't an attractive idea. However, the idea that Arthur may place the blame on her shoulders for allowing Victoria to slip away to begin with was an even less attractive idea. It dawned on her that Victoria could be getting tortured by savages while she was considering her relationship with her ex husband. When she realized her selfish thoughts she became disgusted with herself. She never prided herself on being the most noble or considerate of women but she never thought that she could reach this level of inconsideration. She sat herself on the bed and closed her eyes. She contemplated her options before reaching a decision. If she wished to make things right with Arthur, Victoria and with herself, she knew what she had to do.

Matt laid still in the field, dumbstruck. He stared into the night sky of Nebraska. He half expected Victoria to come outside with dinner to bring comfort to him. Just as she did when he was a child. Instead, all he saw was the glittering stars scattered across the darkness. He recalled the days of his childhood. The days of him and Alfred wrestling in the garden and playing games while waiting for Arthur and Françoise to return from Europe. Some days Matthew would find himself sitting in solitude staring at the night sky just as he was now. Victoria would always come outside with a small snack and a blanket. He could almost feel that blanket on his skin right now. They would spend an hour or two talking in peace while Alfred snored in his bed. He had hoped he would be able to relive those moments again with Victoria's visit but it seems that dream is far off.

* * *

_**The next morning...**_

Alfred strapped his saddle on to his horse. He petted his horse lovingly and rested his head on the horse's neck. The horse had a terrible stench but it was comforting. Reminding him the days he spent learning to ride horses. The encouraging smiles that Victoria would pass him and Matthew when they rode through the garden. The sharply said instructions from Arthur about the best way to ride a horse in a practical situation, such as war or for a hasty retreat, should they ever run into such a situation. While Françoise taught them how to ride stylishly on the horse and play games while riding. They were two different styles of teaching but Alfred learned every lesson by heart. His merry recollection of the past came to an abrupt halt when he heard the sound of Gilbert vomiting behind him. Gilbert threw up the food and drink from last night near Arthur's horse. Alfred saw this and laughed quietly to himself at the surprise awaiting Arthur.

"Good morning, Gilbert!" Alfred yelled. Gilbert cried in agony and covered his ears to try to block out Alfred's purposeful yelling, "Did you have a good night's rest?!" Alfred yelled again.

"Please. Don't do this" Gilbert begged, "If you have any sympathy for me you won't do this"

"Oh, I have sympathy for you" Alfred pointed at the obese prostitute poking her head out from a window and gazing down at Gilbert lovingly. Gilbert looked at her and cringed with disgust for her.

"What do you mean by that?" there was a moment of silence, "Oh no. No no no no no no no no" Alfred laughed at his Gilbert's realization of his grave mistake.

"Oh yes. Yes. Yes. Yes," he chuckled, "But you're not the only guilty one here" Alfred waved at Layla who was leaning on the door frame of the saloon and looking at Alfred with a soft smile and affectionate eyes. Gilbert looked over at Layla. He instantly felt jealous that Alfred was able to get the attractive whore. Gilbert smacked his lips and tried to mount Arthur's horse. It took him about three tries before he was able to get his footing and another two tries to get himself on to the saddle.

"Gilbert" Alfred spoke. Gilbert couldn't quite see past his blurred vision and felt around to find the reins.

"What?" Gilbert grumbled.

"You're sitting on the horse backwards" Gilbert stopped searching for the reins and sat dumbly. He stared at the horse tail for a few seconds before it clicked in his mind that he was sitting on the horse backwards.

"Oh...okay" He tried to get off the horse, instead falling over and falling into this own vomit. At that, Alfred lost it. He laughed hysterically at his friend's idiocy as he tried to pick himself up and find a horse to sit on. Arthur came out of the saloon, holding a small bag of supplies. Bandages, bullets and small bottles of whiskey that he managed to haggle off the bartender. When he came out he saw Gilbert trying to lift himself from the pool of vomit that was in front his horse and Alfred laughing at him. He ignored this scene, turning his attention to Layla.

"Thank you for helping us. We really appreciate it" he thanked her while extending his hand out to her. She nodded to him but did not take his hand. She pulled her thin shawl tighter around herself and walked back inside the saloon. Arthur walked over to to his horse, stepping around the vomit and over Gilbert. He put the supplies into the saddle bags, resisting the urge to kick Gilbert away from him.

"Get up! We have to get moving" Arthur chided him. Gilbert grunted then stuck his tongue out at Arthur, giving him a long raspberry. Arthur stared blankly at him with Gilbert's spit still resting on his face. In response to this, Arthur pulled his gun from his holster and shot three shots into the sky. Gilbert yelled while covering his ears. The sounds of Arthur's gun going off was ten times louder in Gilbert's ears than in Arthur's or Alfred's ears. Gilbert stumbled his way back to his horse while Arthur organized his things with an amused smirk. Alfred continued to stifle his laughter, to no avail.

"Alfred" Arthur addressed, "We need to talk" Alfred's laughter stopped. His face dropped and he resumed petting his horse.

"There is nothing to talk about" Alfred denied.

"Yes, there is"

"Can't you two have your lover's quarrel somewhere else? Maybe someplace where I'm not there" Gilbert interrupted. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Pay us no mind. Why don't you go and nurse your hangover somewhere else? Like with your special lady friend?" Arthur nodded his head at the prostitute Gilbert had taken to bed the night before. A look of disgust distorted Gilbert's facial features. Arthur returned his attention to Alfred, "As I was saying, we need to talk" Arthur mounted his horse.

"And as I already said, there is nothing to talk about" Alfred mounted his horse.

"You can avoid this all you want but-" Alfred sensed the beginning of a lecture. He poked his spurs into his horse's side and began a light gallop away from Arthur, making the Englishman stop in mid-sentence. Alfred's lack of respect infuriated him. He galloped after Alfred and pulling his horse in front of Alfred's making them both stop and stare at each other.

"What is your problem?!" Alfred demanded.

"You! You're my problem! I understand that hold ill will towards me but we have a mission. Victoria was right when she said that this would require us to have full trust in each other. All I offer is a temporary truce" Arthur yelled.

"Temporary truce? For now, we get along?" Arthur nodded. Alfred considered his offer for a moment before nodding in agreement, "We're good. For now"

"Fair enough. But just so you know, the marriage will happen. And you will have to get over yourself at some point" Arthur's words stabbed directly though Alfred's heart.

* * *

_**Three days later...**_

Her mind was a jumbled mess. Behind her closed eyes her mind replayed memories that she thought she had long since forgotten. _Clear images of Alfred in his boyhood running through the house and sliding down the hallway in his socks. The sound of breaking glass rang in her ear. She saw herself running up the stairs crying Alfred's name in a panic. Following her up the stairs was Matthew with crumbs of freshly cooked bread resting on his lips. When the two came to the source of sound from the shattering glass they saw Alfred, no more than eight or nine in appearance, staring down at the shattered pieces of a vase while holding a ball in his hands._

_"Alfred!" Victoria chided him._

_"Alfred...Mr. Britain is going to kill you, for sure" Matthew whimpered while squeezing his white bear nervously. Victoria turned Matthew before giving him a light push away from her._

_"Go find Mr. Britain and tell him to come back inside!" she ordered. When she turned back to Alfred he went white in fear, "You, young man, will be receiving a punishment! You have been told thrice already that running and playing in the house is forbidden!" Alfred's eyes began to glisten over. Him being on the verge of tears pulled at Victoria's heartstrings but she continued on with her harsh lecture, "This is why it is forbidden! Clean this mess up! And be swift about it!" she scolded before storming downstairs boiling with rage at Alfred's disregard to the rules. Matthew gave Alfred a sympathetic glace then ran downstairs to follow through with his orders to avoid the fury of Victoria Jones._

Her unconscious body was jerked off the horse she was being carried on. At some point during her abduction she was rendered into a comatose state. Her stomach clenched and growled loudly, showing that she had been starved for days. Bags had developed under her eyes making it clear that she has not had a good nights rest. She was thrown carelessly on to the ground, falling on her broken wrist. She chomped down on her lower lip to prevent herself from crying out. It was not in her nature to show weakness. Especially to red skinned scum that would kidnap a sick woman from her own home while in the middle of robbing travelers. Her brown eyes fluttered open, puffy and red from the tears she was choking back. Her hands were bound together by a rope that rubbed against her skin. She had struggled many times to escape her binds only to have her hands burned and cut open by the rope. She turned herself on her back and panted while staring up at the clear Nebraska sky. Her kidnapper took a handful of her hair and lifted her off the ground. She once again, made no sound to show that she felt the pain he was inflicting upon her. Instead, she bit down on the inside of her cheek until the warm metallic taste of blood leaked on to her tongue. He dragged her to the center of the circle that his two other riding companions formed. He jerked her head up and stared at her with that a savage glare.

"Who are you?" he asked in his deep, menacing voice. Victoria spat a glob of her bloody spit on to his face and stared him in the eye bravely. He wiped away the spit from his cheek with his hand then tossed her back on the ground. A riding companion of his, tall and skinny with long hair, took the liberty of giving her a hard kick to the rib cage. She let out a sound that sounded like "Oof" but it was drowned out by that sharp sound one of her ribs breaking, "Who are you?" her kidnapper demanded again.

"Jones. Victoria Jones, you savage" she panted.

"You gave birth the Immortal One" he went on. Victoria spat more of her bloody spit on the ground but said nothing to the Indian. She didn't understand his assumption but she had an idea of who he was speaking of.

"I don't know what you're talking about" she replied. Long Hair prepared his leg to come down on her again but was stopped by his friend who had a hooked nose and a weathered face. Long Hair put his leg back down.

"The Immortal One. You birthed him"

"I have not birthed any Immortal One. You are mistaken" she tried to convince him. Long hair ignored Hooked Nose and kicked her again the side, breaking another rib. Her face cringed and she could not stifle her grunt.

"There are tales of Immortal Ones that are the land. They are meant to protect the land and its people. My people know of these Immortal Ones and pay homage to them in hopes that in return they will protect our land from the white men" fear was beginning to bubble in pit of her stomach. It would seem that all the effort put into keeping their secret was all for naught.

"That sounds like a bunch of bullshit" she spat at him. She was not one to stoop to using profanity but it would seem that savages care little for manners.

"They have been seen and the elders of every tribe know of the Immortal Ones. You mothered the Immortal One of this land. The tales tell of a woman that nursed the Immortal One to adulthood thus nursing the land. You are she" he pointed an accusing finger at her, "My people lose their land, lives and culture every day to the white man. The white man's hubris is corrupting the land and my people. We have paid sacrifices, prayers, and tributes to the Immortal One of our land but he has done nothing to stop the white man from destroying our culture and homes"

"Spare me the bedtime stories" Victoria cut him off. He glowered at her with rage burning brightly in his eyes, "That's all bullshit. Nobody is immortal. We all face our maker one day. It's nature" she lied to him.

"We saw you. We saw you and other Immortal Ones come on to our land. We know you are the woman who gave birth the Immortal One because your name is the tales. You have been seen playing a child long ago and now. With the child grown"

"You're insane. You would pick any random woman that matched the description of a woman in the fairy tale and talk her to death with this pointless monologue" she was unflinching in the face of danger. A remarkable trait that impressed her captors but didn't help her case in any way. Her kidnapper brought his hand down hard on her head, then took a fistful of her hair. He yanked her up and threw her on her feet. She stumbled forward before catching her balance. She was weak. Now that she was standing her feet she found herself weaker than she thought. Her knees buckled but she regained her footing, still trembling and swaying in a dizzied manner.

"Go find the Immortal One. Tell him that if he does not come forth and protect his land and people, he will die. Along with his land" her captors mounted their horses. They sped forward, her kidnapper making one last effort to remind her of their strength. While riding past her he delivered a quick kick to the side of her head. She fell on to the ground, scared, confused and praying to God for guidance.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur had to admit that there was a certain appeal to the countryside of America. He found himself lost in the foreign lands. Though the sun beat down on him, making him pour sweat through his shirt, he still could not deny the natural beauty of the American countryside. In what he liked to consider the good days, when Alfred was a child, he never saw any reason to stray from his original thirteen colonies. He often would listen to the stories that Alfred told him halfheartedly while stealing glances at Victoria who was too busy scrubbing the floors or cooking to pay any attention to him. He released the reins and removed his hat. Tucked behind the lining of his hat was a small picture. A memento of sorts. He glanced at his traveling companions to make sure that neither were paying attention to him. Gilbert was staring down at his hands with a serious expression. Alfred had the same expression looking forward. It would seem that Arthur was not the only one in an emotion struggle. _How arrogant of me,_ he chided himself. He reached into his hand and took out a rough piece of parchment. It was folded and damaged with age. It felt brittle in his fingers but the scent of home still lingered on it. He grazed his thumb over it, feeling the comforts of London right at his fingertips. He pondered the idea of unfolding it now but by glancing at the sun that sat high in the sky, he thought it a better idea to read it before bed. He tucked it back behind the lining of his hat. When he looked up he saw that the expressions of traveling companions had not changed.

Alfred had fallen back into his memory. Going through the peaceful countryside was unsettling for him. He had become so well adjusted to a certain lifestyle that anything different from that made him nervous. He found himself shaking and analyzing his surroundings with paranoia stirring inside him. The life of a soldier never gets easier. He considered himself as such. He can still recall the friendships he had made with humans. He made them under the foolish idea that their friendships would last forever. Despite the warnings he received from other countries. The eerie peace that seemed to creep into his personal life made him paranoid. Such as now. There were no yelling, no gunshots, no violence. Nothing was wrong. Except for the nagging feeling of being watched. He slid his sweaty palm over the cool metal of his Colt .45. He cocked it, earning him the attention of Arthur and Gilbert. Arthur repeated Alfred action. Gilbert pressed his rifle against his chest and cocked it. Alfred raised one hand and three of them came to a stop.

"What is it?" Arthur asked. Alfred scanned his surroundings. He saw nothing out of place but the feeling still nagged him. Arthur was beginning to doubt Alfred's instincts but it was Gilbert that made the first move. He aimed his rifle and pulled the trigger at a nearby tree. The body of a bleeding Native fell from behind the tree covering his bleeding shoulder with his hand. When his cry echoed into the peaceful air more Natives came out of hiding. Their arrows trained on the trio of countries. Alfred and Arthur made no hesitation to pull their triggers. Arthur counted eight in total, not counting the one that Gilbert just shot. Unlike Arthur, Alfred wasted no time counting. Instead he aimed his revolver at the nearest Native and shot him. The Native was shot directly in the chest, making him accidentally release his arrow and the arrow whizzing past Alfred's head, barely grazing the tip of ear. Blood trickled down his ear and dripped off his ear lobe. The feeling of blood on his skin triggered a self preservation instinct in Alfred, making him shoot three more Natives before his gun malfunctioned. Two Natives died during Alfred's blind bloodlust. One, however, managed to survive. He rolled around on the ground, clutching his bleeding thigh.

Arthur admired Alfred's prowess on the battlefield but he could still a flaw in his style of attack. After centuries of facing war, Gilbert and Arthur had become more crisp and sharp in their attacks. Arthur always found that striking a well placed and timed attack always did more damage to an enemy than random powerful attacks. Arthur saw the trouble Alfred was having with gun. The attention was drawn on the American, due to large size and raw anger. He was currently the largest threat. Arthur took this opportunity to shoot a well aimed bullet a Native that was planning an attack from the trees. With the Native's attention on Alfred he didn't notice the Englishman aim his gun. He fell on to the grass with blood seeping from the side of his head and part of his brains splattered on the tree. His well placed attacked might have saved Alfred but it did not save Gilbert. Gilbert slid off his horse with two arrows erecting from his back. When he fell a Native came out of hiding with a rock held tightly in his hand. Gilbert rolled over and grabbed his rifle. He aimed his weapon at the Native running at him but when he pulled the trigger all he heard was a soft click. The Native was already upon. He thought quickly to take firm grip of the barrel of the weapon and thrust it up at the Native. This plan worked, hitting the Native in the chin sending him on his back. Gilbert forced himself up and threw himself on his attacker. He pressed his rifle into the the throat of the Native until he felt his neck snap under the pressure.

As Gilbert defended himself against the Native Arthur did his best to defend him. As Alfred was managing well enough on his own. The American stormed past the flurry of arrows, some lodging themselves in him. All he did was grit his teeth, pull the arrow out and press forward. He gun was not serving as it should. Alfred sought other means of killing his opponents. He found himself wrestling with two Natives. One latching on to his arm in a failed attempt to hold him back. Another Native pulled a primitive knife made of sculpted rocked out and made an swung it Alfred's face then at at his stomach, missing on both occasions. Alfred leaned forward, picking up the Native on his arm and tossing him into the Native attempting to stab him. The two Natives fell back into a tree. The Native with the crude knife accidentally stabbing it into the Native that was thrown on him. When he pulled it out he was soaked in the blood of his fellow Native. The Native was stricken with fear when he saw the pure rage in Alfred's expression. Alfred took the Native by his hair and forced him on his knees. He repeatedly came down the Native's face with the end of his gun until his hands had become drenched in blood.

After witnessing the brutal death Alfred caused the two surviving Natives to flee. Alfred was far too high on his lust to realize that the fight was over. He approached the single Native he had prepared his gun to once again, to strike. Instead of coming down like he had planned he felt two strong arms hook themselves on to his arms and pulled him back. Gilbert laid on the ground, clutching two freshly pulled arrows in his hand. It was Arthur that was killing his buzz. He tried to fight against Arthur but in this case, it was Arthur's experience that gave the Englishman the advantage over the American. The two men fell back and rolled on the ground. They rolled until Arthur was sitting on his chest, his knees digging into Alfred's shoulders. Alfred Alfred tried to throw him off but Arthur was quick, seeming to anticipate the American's next move.

"Alfred! Stop!" Arthur yelled, "The fight is over!"

"No!" Alfred yelled back, "Get off me!" Arthur slapped away Alfred's flailing hands with ease and gave Alfred a direct punch across his jaw. Not hard like he had always wished he could but just enough to snap him out of his nightmare. Alfred paused and stared at Arthur with a surprised expression. They panted and stared at each other. Alfred couldn't find the words to say to him but Arthur didn't need any. He understood what he was going through. He, himself, has had his own struggle with the memories of war. Arthur sat up and offered his hand to Alfred. Alfred took his hand, allowing the Englishman to help him stand. The two men held hands. Never have the two men ever reached such an understanding of the other's emotions and thoughts than they have now.

Gilbert stood up, ignoring the pain in his back from the arrows that were previously lodged in his body. He dragged himself to where the Native laid. He struggled to hold on to the bloody arrow but he managed it until he was standing above the Native. The Native was breathing heavily. His skin was becoming pale.

"You know," Gilbert panted, "I'm really starting to hate America" this comment was enough to get Alfred and Arthur's attention. The pair of men released their hands and went to stand behind Gilbert. The Native glanced up at the men. He lifted himself on his arms and spat at Alfred's boots.

"You betray your land, Immortal One" he said in a raspy voice before passing out from blood loss. The three men exchanged confused looks. Alfred shrugged his shoulders then gave a swift kick to the Native's head. The sound of a skull cracking was heard, much to both Arthur and Gilbert's annoyance.

"You idiot! Why would you do that?! If we kept him alive we could have questioned him as to what he meant by the Immortal One!" Arthur scolded.

"Don't worry. I'm more than sure we'll meet more but he deserved it. He spat on my boot. You don't spit on another man's boot. That's just disrespectful" Alfred replied nonchalantly.

"You're a moron. A true moron"

"Hey! If you two could stop fighting for a few seconds and tend to me, yeah! That would be great!" Gilbert yelled at Arthur and Alfred.

"Fuck" Arthur blurted. Arthur had Gilbert sit while he removed Gilbert's jacket and tended to the Prussian's wounds the best he could under the circumstances. It ending with Gilbert chomping down on a leather belt with Arthur pouring whiskey on to his wounds and the Prussian yelling in German.

* * *

Victoria woke after her brutal attack with her hands still bound together and in immense pain. Her dress that was once white and green had turned brown with becoming stained with blood and dirt. Her hair was no longer in a neat bun but in a matted mess with twigs, dirt, leaves and insects falling around her face. The urge to lay and wait for her savior was tempting her. However, the idea of meeting her death instead of a savior motivated her to stand. She found what little balance she had. Her vision was blurred, her body burned and her hands were still bound by the tight rope. As she walked she gnawed at the rope, twisting her hands out of the bind. No matter how much it pained her. Ever so often she would take a break from her gnawing at the rope to wipe away a tear or catch her breath. No matter what it was, she never looked back. She pressed forward. If she were to survive, she was sure that it was either God's will she might live to see her wedding day or her own damn stubbornness. She continued to walk throughout the rest of the day and night. Never would she take a break. Even if her body screamed for her to stop she couldn't find it in herself to do so.

She wandered the plains for what felt like an eternity to her but in reality was only an entire night and most of her morning. By noon, she had managed to gnaw off her rope. Her jaw ached with every movement but it was worth it to have her hands free of their binds. She yearned for the days before the war when her body would be able to heal itself at much faster rates. Her poor constitution was having an affect on her body's physical healing factor. Her wrist was still shattered, her ribs still broken. The skin of her hands and wrist still sensitive because of the rope she had to break free from. She walked, unbalanced. Evening was finally coming along. Starved, beaten and confused, Victoria found herself staring out into the nothingness of the Nebraska forest. In the past, she always retreated back into her faith for guidance and hope. She would take a few minutes out her day to pray. She always managed to find comfort in her smalls prayers even if they were not answered but having unanswered prayers was a rare occurrence for her. She wanted to drop to her knees, clap her hands together and pray but she felt that if she were to fall she would not have the strength to get up.

_He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tire and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint._

She recited the passage in her mind, mouthing the words to herself. She took her skirt in her hand, raising it above her ankles to provide an easier way of walking. When she saw a small clearing she released her skirt and stumbled to it. She collapsed on the ground, falling on her chest. She pushed herself to roll over on her back making a sharp pain in her wrist shoot up her arm. She bit on her lower lip to keep from yelling. She panted heavily as she unbuttoned her dress in the front. She could not continue on with her underwear constraining her every move. She was convinced that her corset tightening around her waist was only making her case of broken ribs worse. She unbuttoned her dress, revealing her corset. Her hands trembled violently as she tried to unlace it but she managed halfway before becoming too frustrated to finish. She tore the laces apart with what strength she had. Free from her corset, breathing became easier for her. She laid with her arms stretched out besides her. She took in deep breaths trying to regain her strength to remove the rest of her dress and hoop skirt. She squirmed out of her dress and hoop with much struggle but as she laid in a plain white undergarment dress she was already feeling better. She felt around for something to get a grip on. She felt her hand land on a thin tree. She pushed herself up against it. Newly shed from her proper clothing could not find it in herself to put her dress back on. No matter how embarrassed she might be when found, she believed her life to be of more importance than a scandal. _Now,_ she thought, _find water and food._

* * *

Matthew followed the pioneers with Françoise riding besides him. Matthew paid for Abigail's train ticket back East and arranged her living accommodations to be in a hotel. She would be staying at a nice hotel in New York until he returned with Victoria. Hopefully before Alfred, Arthur and Gilbert came back from their trip. The pioneers were quick to deny having any knowledge of the Native American whereabouts or seeing any woman matching Victoria's description. This made their search harder. Matthew stayed away from the pioneers, leading Françoise away.

"You know, you look so much like Alfred" Françoise pointed out. Matthew rolled his eyes and grunted. How he despised that comparison.

"Thanks" he whispered. The two sat on their horses staring at the pioneers go on to a better future, "Nobody knows anything about Victoria's abduction or the Natives in the areas"

"No, they do not" there was a silence before Matthew finally asked Françoise,

"What should do we do next?" Françoise scoffed at him. As if offended, she put her hand on her chest and glared at him.

"I have no idea! This is your mission!" she scolded. Matthew ran his hand through his hair and let out a frustrated sigh.

"I'm sorry if my question made you upset but I really need to find her and you said you'd help so. Help!" he replied. The pair sat in silence. Both thought of a ideas about what their next move should be but it was Françoise that spoke first.

"We should try finding settlements. Small towns in the area. Were I in her position, I'd be looking for civilization. I'm sure finding more settled areas will lead us to Victoria" Françoise suggested. Matthew pondered her plan before agreeing to it because he simply could not come up with another alternative.


End file.
